Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Twenty minutes after she left, I assumed the typical shit. She had to pee. Fix her makeup. Got held up by a friend in the hallway. When more time passed, I reassured myself it was because she was putting on some kinky-ass outfit for me. Maybe her zipper had gotten stuck. After an hour, I still gave her the benefit of the doubt, convincing myself she hadn’t paid attention to the room number and couldn’t find her way back. Then I remembered she hadn’t bothered to grab my key. Coming back was never her plan.
I spent a good portion of the night trying to dislocate my thumb to break free. When that didn’t work, I yelled, hoping someone would hear me. Then I passed out for a bit, the booze and energy I exerted catching up to me. Thank God for Louisa, or I’d still be stuck there. That little. . .
“You don’t look sick—”
“Well, I was. Fuck. Why do you care? What did you do last night?” I practically bite Chase’s head off. Chase smiles back at me with his dumb-ass grin. He pulls Bridget onto his lap. “Okay. Sorry I asked. I really don’t want those details—”
“Got engaged last night.” He brings Bridget’s hand up, and sure enough, she’s sporting a huge ring. Fucked-up night forgotten, my eyes widen.
“No way. Congrats, man!” Damn, another one bites the dust. I thought Chase had sworn off love after the bullshit he went through with his ex. Then Bridget landed in his life and turned it upside down. I couldn’t be happier for him. “Fuck. Come here.” I get up and wrap my arms around them both.
“Thanks, Ben.” Bridget giggles.
I sit down, loving how happy they look. “Man. Crazy. You think Chase is gonna make you do some vampire re-enactment at the ceremony?” I laugh at him and his strange obsession with Twilight movies. “Make you his by sucking your blood? Totally some Twilight shit—”
“Fuck off,” he says, then leans into Bridget and whispers, “Angel, maybe we should write that down in our wedding planner.”
“Right next to my glittered lotion request.”
“God, I love when you talk dirty to me.”
I cover my ears. “Maybe not next to me please. I’d tell you two to get a room, but I’m not having you ditch the bill—”
“Oh my God!” A shrieking noise blares from behind me. Before I can get out of the way, Hannah knocks me over to hug Bridget. “Oh my God, I heard the great news! Congratulations! I’m so happy for you. I mean, I can’t believe Kip is okay with this.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Chase gripes. “I get it. I may have run too long with that joke.”
“You think? It only seems fair to throw it back at you.” She turns back to Bridget, dismissing Chase. “I’m so happy for you.” Then Hannah turns to me. “How was your night?”
“Why the hell is everybody asking me that?” Everyone stares and shrugs. I pull at my sleeves. There’s no way they know.
“Just asking, geez. Heard you disappeared.”
“Well, I didn’t. I went to bed.” And didn’t leave it until about twenty minutes ago.
“Okay, then, crabby pants. Anywho, Mom invited everyone over this afternoon. She wants us to open the wedding gifts. You know, since this was her wedding as much as mine.”
“Sweet. I worked up an appetite last night, and this sucky brunch isn’t cutting it. I could use a Matthews’ deluxe burger.” Chase rubs his belly.
“And I could use less information, dude,” Kips says.
“What? If I have to hear about your wife lactating, you can hear about the way I flipped Bridget and—”
“Okay! That’s enough.” Bridget speaks up and puts a stop to the bickering. Thank God. They’re all giving me a headache.
“You’re right. Let’s go, Angel. Last thing I need is for Ben to get there before us and eat all the good shit.”
Oh, I’m hungry, all right. But not for food. More like revenge. And I plan on getting it.
"Dad? You home?” I throw my gym bag on the couch and head into the kitchen. Mom and Dad are sitting at the table, a pile of papers in front of them. “S’up.”
“Hey, son. How was practice?”
I head toward the fridge, grabbing a water. “Good. Coach says I’m looking right on target. What are you two doing?” I look over at Mom. She looks stressed. “You guys okay?”
“We’re just fine. Come sit with us.”
They’re acting weird. I sit next to my dad, peering at the piles of papers. A logo on the top sheet stands out. “Wait—is that—?”
“It is.”
“Did you open it? Did I get in?”
Dad presses his large hand over my shoulder and nods. “You got in.” I take a quick glance at Mom. Her cheeks are wet with tears. When I look back at him, his own eyes are welling up. “Hard work pays off, son. You’re going to make all your dreams happen. I knew you could do it.”